I sighed heavily. Of course, his attackers were dead.
CHAPTER TWO
Confession of a princess:
I despise that I must know more about my ghastly soul mate. Why did I get bound to that repulsive shifter? This is making my life so much more complicated. And deadly. The situation is entirely disgraceful.
My Fae, I wish I hadn’t sneezed.
“CASPIAN,”IGRUMBLED,shaking his shoulder. “It’s morning. You wanted to speak to my father, remember?”
My cousin blinked open his eyes, squinting in the early light. “We slept all dayandnight?”
“We did.” I yawned and stretched in bed, adoring the soft mattress under my body. It was a dream compared to the Blood Forest’s frozen ground. “You may take the bathroom first. I’m going to enjoy the bed for a moment.”
“Don’t enjoy it too much.” Caspian chuckled as he rolled off the mattress. He waved his hand at the headboard while he slinked to my bathroom. “It looks like you already broke it.”
I groaned and tossed the blanket over my head. I lied, “The earthquake before yesterday’s did that.”
“That earthquake wasn’t that bad.” Caspian snorted and closed himself into my bathroom.
“They don’t make furniture like they used to,” I called loudly. I pulled the blanket down and scowled at the jagged crack in my headboard that King Athon had put there. “This fractured bed is like a soul mate you don’t want. A cheap impression of what you always hoped you’d get.”
His laughter rang out loud inside the bathroom. “That’s fairly brutal. I like it!”
I almost sobbed but, instead, specified cheerfully, “You are a fool, my friend.”
“The best fool you’ve got,” he shouted.
I battled away my melancholy with a long-suffering sigh and snuggled back down into my mattress, waiting patiently for my turn for the bathroom. I played with the comforter until I heard a tap-tapping at my window—a window that is four stories high off the ground. I jerked my head up from my pillow and peered through the sunlight.
I stared at the stone lizard messenger perched precariously outside on the edge of my floor to ceiling windows.
I muttered to myself, “This can’t be good.”
I quickly jumped off my bed and dashed across the room. I rolled open the window, and a gust of wind battered my nightgown, blowing it to and fro. I knelt on one knee and placed my hand on top of the lizard’s gnarly head, messengers caster-spelled by blood of the originals for sending communications in kingdoms—and between kingdoms.
Its pebble eyes glowed red at my touch, and it opened its mouth full of sharp, rocky teeth. Inside, lay a simple sheet of thick paper, folded once, with a red, wax seal that didn’t indicate its origins.
I plucked the missive from its mouth.
The messenger didn’t leave. It waited.
Wonderful. The person who sent it wanted a response.
I cracked the seal and looked directly to the signature first.
My lungs seized. I glanced at the bathroom door.
The shower was still running. Hopefully, I had time for this.
Elf,
I have an official challenge tomorrow night.
Do not, under any circumstances, try to heal me. It will be hard until we learn to control this shit show that the Fae cursed us with, but I am ordering you not to help me. I know this personally as you fucking hurt yourself yesterday while I was taking a soak—my one enjoyable moment ruined by you. Our bond will pull you to heal me, but do not do it. I managed. You can, too. It may be allowed in a challenge for a soul mate to help in this way, but for obvious reasons, that I hope your addle-minded brain can figure out, it won’t be safe to do so.
Don’t fuck this up,
